An unpleasant Meeting
by awn
Summary: ONE-SHOT What happens at Lord Voldemorts meeting with his ‘dear friends’?


**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter, all places and characters, the names etcetera belongs to Mrs J.K Rowling, her publishers (there are so much of them, so, well …), and Warner Brothers™. All rights reserved. This is not meant as theft or insult – I wrote it for fun. I own the story.  
**Rating:** PG-13 for violence, I think.  
**Additional warnings:** Violence

* * *

**An unpleasant meeting**

Bellatrix Lestrange walked slowly around in the house _Spinner's End_. She was bored, and waited for the Dark Mark on the upper part of her left arm to burn. It had not burned for a while, so Bellatrix began feeling concerned; the Dark Lord usually wanted his Death Eaters to come to him four or five times a week. Now it was Saturday, and the Dark Mark had not burned since Friday the week before. Voldemort had told his 'dear friends' that it maybe would take a while before they could met again.

Bellatrix did not like the idea at all. She thought the meetings with the Dark Lord was very pleasant. She walked a little more for a little while, thinking about the Dark Lord more and more. All of a sudden she met her nephew. He seemed to walk around, he too. He was looking very strange.

'Hello, Draco.'

'Hello, Aunt Bellatrix.' Draco had not combed his hair. Bellatrix had noticed that since a while ago, Draco seemed to be sad for something.

'How are you?'

'Fine … And you, Aunt Bellatrix?'

'Fine …' She thought Draco acted strange somehow. 'What are you up to? I'm a little bored at the moment.

Draco looked at me.

'Nothing, Aunt. Why are you bored?'

'Don't know. But my Dark Mark hasn't burned since last Friday. Has yours?'

'No, it hasn't. Are you worried?

'Not much, just a little. I just wondered if it was anything wrong with mine afterwards it hadn't burn for such a long time. It used to burn more before.'

'I know.'

'What are you talking about?' Narcissa had just entered the room-

'Hello, mother. We just wonder if there were anything wrong with our Dark Marks; They haven't burned for a while. Have yours?'

'No, it hasn't. Have you seen Severus? I was just looking for him.'

'No,' Draco said. 'Why do you ask?'

'I don't know. I was just looking for him. I suppose we'll have to look for him …'

'Are you looking for me?'

'Yes Severus, we did,' Bellatrix said, 'or, well, Narcissa was looking for you. But now when you're here, I'd like to ask you if your Dark Mark had burned since the last meeting?'

'No, it has not. I was just about to …'

All four of them burst out; 'Aaargh!' They all took for their upper parts of their arms, and Apparated in in the grave yard in Little Hangleton, where the Dark Lord were waiting.

'Ah, Bellatrix, Draco, Severus and Narcissa. Welcome. You are a little bit late …?'

'We are sorry, Master!'

'Well, well, well… I am going to punish you, Draco, for not killing more Mudbloods at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Why have not you done that, Draco?'

'My Lord,' Draco said, 'I went expelled afterwards they discovered I murded the Mudblood.'

'And for your clumsiness, by being expellad so you cannot free Hogwarts, you are going to be punished.'

'No, please Lord, No!'

'_Crucio_!'

Narcissa Malfoy watched her son lying on the floor in hard spasms. Tears began to come up in her eyes. She leaned onto Severus' shoulder, afterwards she could not manage to watch her son being punished.

Then, the Dark Lord lifted the curse.

'I hope you can be useful in another place, Draco.'

**Author Notes** So, what do you think? I _really_ appreciate constructive critics, so please, give me some.

This is my first one-shot, and my first English thing, as well. And, at last, to my Swedish readers; Do I write better or poorer in English? Please, review in English, so people understand what you're writing. I can be very curious, when I am reading stuff, what other people think.

P.S. This was, as the end of my Swedish story 'Où sont les Horcruxes?' and my two One-Shots 'Gilderoy's ordinary day' and 'A Night With the Friends', written during my journey to Tunisia. D.S.


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